


grand old ivy

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Developing Relationship, Friendship, Harvard University, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though he had been so eager to start at Harvard and leave life in England behind him, Harry found himself making friends with a slew of other Englishmen (and Irishmen) on campus. Now, it’s the night before they’re set to find out what House they’ll be assigned to for the next three years, and while Zayn and Ed find the traditions ridiculous, Harry quite likes them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	grand old ivy

**Author's Note:**

> I kept seeing people ask for The Social Network AU, but that’s too sad for me. I hope you accept this generic Harvard AU in its place. You definitely don’t need to have seen TSN, but it might help with some of the jargon.
> 
> There are 12 upperclass dorms/houses at Harvard (think Hogwarts), and students get placed in one at the end of their freshman year. Students form ‘blocking groups’-- basically a group of up to 8 students that live in the same suite/block. One tradition, called River Run, occurs the night before students find out their housing assignments. There are some videos on youtube of the events that unfold in this fic (I’d recommend ‘Harvard Housing Day 2009’-- please don’t comment on the video). The checklist mentioned is another tradition: that ‘every’ student, before he or she graduates should 1, urinate on the John Harvard statue in Harvard Yard, 2, streak through Harvard Yard the night before finals (‘Primal Scream’) and 3, have sex in the stacks of Widener Library. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is a fictional story based on the public images of these people. I do not intend to make any aspersions that their real-life counterparts behave or think like this. Please do not send this to anyone involved in this fanwork or anyone that he or she may know. Title taken from How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.

“Where are you?” Louis asks, his voice tinny on the other end of the line.

“Just leaving Weld,” Harry responds, as he steps into his other boot. He takes a quick look around his room-- he really won’t be sorry to leave this one behind. He cradles his phone between his cheek and shoulder, “where are you?”

Harry’s blockmate Douglas shoots him a dark look, which Harry steadfastly ignores.

“I’m still in my room. Zayn’s taking too long, I don’t want to wait anymore. Should I come to you?”

Harry smiles despite himself, glances over at his blockmate scribbling furiously in the margins of the _Bhagavad Gita_. 

“Sure. There’s no rush, though. We’re still meeting at Niall and Liam’s and then heading down to the river after the sun goes down. Niall’s in charge of pizza and booze.”

“As if I’d expect any different,” Louis muses. “Where’s Ed?”

“Oh, right. Ed’s in class so we’ll have to meet him after. He doesn’t really care about this stuff anyway, you know.”

“I swear, Harry, if we end up living in the Quad because Ed pisses off the river gods, well...”

Harry fluffs his hair a bit, settling back in on his bed. “The houses on the Quad aren’t that bad, I think. I think the rooms are bigger. At least that’s what Grimmy said.”

“Grimmy lives in Mather, what does he know about the Quad?” Louis scoffs, and Harry can hear the tension in his voice. He secretly thinks it’s cute how wound up Louis gets when someone mentions Grimmy. “Besides, I thought you were into this.”

Harry chuckles low in the phone. “I am. I’m into seeing you all paranoid and fidgety without having control over housing.”

“The truth comes out,” Louis whispers conspiratorially. Over the line, Harry hears wind whipping past and assumes Louis is on his way over.

“Are you walking?” Harry asks.

“Yes,” Louis says. “It’s nice out. I think the rain’ll hold off.”

The low way he says it makes Harry flush involuntarily. It’s just commentary on the weather, literally the most mundane topic, but it hints at the kind of every day talk they’ll get to have when they live together. 

When his mum had asked him about housing, she had been far less enthusiastic in her response than he had expected. When he happily chirped over Skype that he, Louis, Niall, Liam, Zayn, and Ed would be blocking together, she looked a little more serious at that.

“That’s lovely, dear,” she had said. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, though? Living with Louis?”

Harry had gone so red he actually had to stick his head under the tap afterwards to cool down. He had smiled and nodded, but his mum didn’t even know the whole truth. His mum had suspected that he fancied Louis, sure, but she had no idea about the kiss that had just taken place a couple days prior. 

Even though he and Louis still haven’t talked about it, Harry finds himself replaying it over and over in his mind, wondering how to make another kiss happen. Should he pose himself on the bed, possibly shirtless? It might work, he thinks for a moment, but he and Louis had done Primal Scream together in the winter, so Louis’ already seen all the goods. He contemplates dragging Louis down to the depths of the stacks at Widener, some lewd comment about completing the graduation requirements at the tip of his tongue, when he remembers that Louis is actually still on the line.

“Nothing puts out a fire quite like rain,” Harry murmurs instead.

“Surprisingly deep,” Louis laughs, clearly not cottoning on to the fact that Harry was previously a million miles away. “Okay, I’m outside your door. Come let me in, please.” 

Harry launches himself off his bed and out the door, barrelling down the old wooden stairs. He crashes the door open to let the sun into the darkness of the stairwell, and he sees Louis standing there on the granite steps, Harvard Yard laid out behind him.

“Hi,” Harry says. 

“Hello,” Louis responds, making a show of hanging up his phone call with Harry. 

Louis wordlessly follows Harry back up the stairs to his room. It’s a walk they’ve done countless times, but Harry feels so weighted down with want these days, it’s hard for him to think of anything to say that’s even remotely coherent.

“Let me just grab my wallet,” Harry mutters as they re-enter his dorm room. Louis moves to make himself comfortable in the lounge area, settling into the decrepit futon that Harry and another blockmate had lugged across the Yard in their first few days on campus. 

“Hey Douglas,” Louis shouts in greeting. When Harry walks in their room to grab his stuff, he sees Douglas still hunched over, deliberately ignoring Louis’ greeting. 

Harry rifles through his sheets and dresser looking for his wallet. His fingers finally wrap around the worn leather as he digs it out of his sock drawer. He’s not sure how it got there, but he flips it open and makes sure he has enough money to pay back Niall for food and drinks. 

He can hear one of his other blockmates talking to Louis, though he can’t make out what they’re saying. Louis is one of the most well-liked guys around campus, one of the students that shines extra bright, so it’s no surprise when he won over most of Harry’s blockmates months ago. Xin had bluntly told Harry the night the rest of them met Louis that they preferred Louis to him. They laughed as if they were joking, but Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if they were being earnest.

Harry had no idea, that first day of class when he met Louis, about the whirlwind that was about to enter his life. Harry thought he had been prepared for almost everything-- he stepped off the plane with a pretty decent understanding of the layout of the university (thanks to his stepdad), ready to shop for classes and learn from the most prestigious experts in their fields. He was especially ready to shed his image from England-- Past Harry was awfully fond of sweatpants and polos. He had almost immediately started wearing skinnier jeans, more hats in general, and took up flirting with boys in a much more obvious manner. 

He had it figured out, it seemed, but when he showed up to his freshman seminar, and sat down across from the boy with fringe sweeping across his forehead, he felt immediately unsettled. Of course, things only got worse when the professor cold-called him and asked who he thought the greatest literary hero of all time was. Harry had stuttered through a response on Harry Potter, citing both his accessibility and relatability despite extreme circumstances. The girl two seats down had lifted her hand almost immediately after and disdainfully argued that it’s _obviously_ Odysseus, since Harry Potter borrowed heavily from Homer. 

Harry had taken a deep breath through his nose, and tried to remind himself that it was okay to fumble his first time speaking in class. He had four years to prove himself. 

Of course, Harry should have known that being English and named Harry in a setting that was essentially fucking Hogwarts would have been enough to get him nicknamed Harry Potter, much less calling him the greatest literary hero of all time. Then again, if he hadn’t stammered his defense out, Louis might not have come up to him after the end of the seminar, winked as he walked backwards down the hallway, and commented on his posh accent.

“Are you taking the piss?” Harry had asked. 

“Well, yes. But obviously it’s okay. We Englishmen have to stick together,” he had said.

It turned out to be the truest statement to ever come out of Louis’ mouth. It had led to them meeting Zayn, who lived in the floor above Louis in Wigglesworth, which led them to Liam, who shared a block with Niall in Canaday. Harry had also met Ed at a poetry slam, who rounded out their little six-part reminder of life across the pond. 

“Found it,” Harry says triumphantly, walking back into the common area, waving his wallet around. He slips it into his back pocket as Louis’ eyes lift to greet him with a smile.

“All set?” he asks. Harry nods.

“Excellent. Niall just texted that he and Liam are walking back from Noch’s now with the pizza. He has the vodka already in his room, so I think we’re ready.”

“Oh, exciting,” Harry singsongs. “Are you guys going down to the river tonight?” he asks Xin and Felix. The two, he knows, are blocking up with another pair down the hall. Felix nods.

“Good luck, then!” Harry calls as he ushers Louis out of their dorm.

“Farewell, Douglas,” Louis calls, but Harry just pushes him a bit harder. Louis’ laughter subsides as they walk back out into the Yard. 

They set off for Canaday, all the way on the other side of the Yard. They walk slowly, taking in the beauty of Cambridge in the early spring. The area gets a lot of credit for the autumn, he thinks, but there’s something really special about spring. Maybe it’s the feeling of new beginnings or the way the sun starts to dip behind the old buildings, but something about it makes him feel invincible. He feels like he did when he first arrived, before the plaguing insecurities and the crippling fear of inadequacy set in. 

He feels Louis’ arm brush up against his, and he knows he has to say something. It’s silly he hasn’t really, that neither of them has brought up their kiss. Harry remembers the way his knees had almost buckled when Louis’ chapped lips pressed gently against his. He remembers the way they had cupped at each other’s faces, and Harry had pressed just that much harder, letting his tongue slip inside Louis’ mouth, and felt Louis’ tongue tracing letters against his. It was a kiss that definitely, definitely, bore repeating. But how, when the words keep trapping themselves in his throat?

Louis feigns interest in a couple of guys playing frisbee on the grass, his arm dangling awkwardly by his side. Harry looks over to the steps of Widener, large and majestic, where there’s always a handful of people sitting on them. Now there’s a school group, kids that look no older than 13, all lined up and smiling in their matching t-shirts. Fuck it, Harry thinks.

Harry looks down and gently, but purposefully, grabs Louis’ hand, threading their fingers together. Louis reacts quickly, giving Harry’s hand a faint squeeze. Louis looks down and back up at Harry, and for a moment they share a warm smile. Harry feels his heart fill up, forcing himself to look away. 

“I have a feeling sophomore year will be even better than freshman year,” Louis says. “As long as we live in a river house. If we end up in the Quad, I’ll transfer to Yale.”

“No leaving,” Harry pouts, even though he knows Louis is just being hyperbolic. Louis just smiles in response, his eyes crinkling up, and Harry knows he has no reason to worry. Not about Louis leaving, at least. Other stuff, well.

“Do you think we should switch rooms? Like, you could share with Niall and I share with Ed or something?” 

Louis keeps walking, but slows his pace a little more. His eyebrows knot together.

“Do _you_ think we should switch rooms?” 

Harry shrugs. “Asked you first.”

“Oh come off it,” Louis laughs. “Um, I don’t really see the reason why we should. I want to live with you. Nialler’s going to be great as a blockmate, but I don’t really want to be his roommate, you know?”

Harry nods and smiles. “Lots of crisp crumbs everywhere.”

“Fucking _everywhere_ ,” Louis agrees.

Harry lets his thumb swipe over Louis’ knuckles.

“Okay. I agree. I just wasn’t sure if you, like, thought it’d be weird,” Harry trails off. The _knowing how I feel about you_ goes unsaid.

“Don’t be silly, Hazza,” Louis says, “I’m still all in.”

“Okay,” Harry says, smiling. Inside though, he’s still reeling. He wants to pull more out of Louis, make him actually verbalize his feelings. After all, Harry thinks to himself, Louis must know that Harry fancies him. Shouldn’t he return the favor and put him out of his misery?

With Canaday in sight, Harry slowly draws his hand away, stuffing it in his pocket to avoid any more awkward moments. He’s 19 and an idiot, and hopelessly fallen for his best friend and future roommate. His sister would laugh herself silly if she could see him now, probably tease him for supposedly being the clever one in the family. 

Louis digs his cell phone out of his pocket and rings up Niall. 

“Fuck you, too,” Harry hears Louis say. He rolls his eyes. He’s really signed himself up for this life. He smiles down at his shoes.

“Yeah, Haz and I are down here at the door. No. No, Ed’s in class until like, what Haz, 8?” Harry nods. “Yeah, 8. He’ll meet us down at the river. Maybe. You know how it is.”

The door swings open to reveal a very well-coiffed Zayn.

“Oh, hello Zayn,” Louis says, hanging up on Niall. “Don’t you look put together. Funny, I couldn’t drag you out of your dorm half an hour ago. Yet here you are.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and ushers them in, up the stairs where they know Liam and Niall’s suite is. Liam and Niall share with four other people, and for the most part, they’re all very nice. They just don’t have a very high tolerance for when Liam and Niall’s entire group of English friends crash the place.

“Way to fucking hang up on me, Lou,” Niall says as the trio enter the lounge area of the block. Harry quietly clicks the door behind him shut and unzips his boots. 

“Forgive me, Ni, I got distracted by Zayn’s face again,” Louis says as he pushes his way over to the unstable butterfly chair that sits in the corner. 

Zayn moves to claim the bean bag chair, and Niall splays himself out on the hardwood flooring. Harry wrinkles up his nose a little, and moves to the three boxes of pizza stacked up on the table in front of the decorative fireplace. 

Harry lays out a couple of pieces on some paper plates and passes them to Zayn and Niall while Liam helps himself. Harry balances one plate on top of the other, and shuffles across the room to give a couple of slices to Louis, smiling as he does so.

“Thanks,” Louis responds, his voice soft. Harry pretends not to notice as he sits down on the floor in front of Louis, using Louis’ legs as if they were the back of a chair. 

“Niall, how long were you in Annenberg for lunch earlier?” Zayn asks. “I swear, I left you and then Ellie said that she saw you like an hour later still there?” 

“Yeah, probably about an hour? Hour and a half? People kept talking to me,” he shrugs. “Makes it hard to actually eat.”

“Yeah, sounds rough being so popular,” Zayn says sarcastically. 

“Don’t you have, like, classes?” Louis asks, before taking a large bite, letting the sauce drip a little at the corner of his mouth. His tongue sweeps out to lick it clean, not that Harry turns to watch. “Or do you spend all your time in the dining hall?”

“I’ll have you know I had a section this morning, but then was at Widener in the stacks for a bit,” he trails off.

“No,” Harry says, shaking his head. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Don’t want to hear what?” Niall smirks. “I was just browsing for some books.”

“Such bollocks,” Zayn says. “Admit that you were having stack sex!”

“Too right I was!” Niall crows. “And you know what that means...”

“No,” Harry mourns.

“Yes!” Niall shouts. “I win! You bastards took way too long knocking off your checklists!”

“I didn’t realize this was a race,” Liam says.

“That’s so stupid Niall,” Harry defends, completely ignoring Liam. Harry places his pizza down to free his hands-- he suspects he’s about to get into an argument with his mate. “We did most of that together, so it shouldn’t count. We defaced the statue on Halloween together. I may have been pissed but I watched Liam pull you off of the statue himself-- your cock was still out. We did Primal Scream together before winter hols, you, me, and Louis, and I know we did that together because you spent the entire holiday making vague comments about my arse on my facebook wall. My aunt kept liking them until I had to make her own privacy settings.”

“Don’t listen to him, Nialler,” Louis says, sliding a hand over Harry’s mouth to stop his rant. “He’s just jealous you beat him to the punch.”

Harry turns to look murderously at Louis. Louis winks, and Harry narrows his eyes even further.

Harry honestly doesn’t know what to make of Louis sometimes. They kiss, and then don’t talk about it. Harry implies he has feelings for Louis, Louis changes the subject. Harry feels like he definitely could have beaten Niall to finish the graduation checklist first if Louis hadn’t been so emotionally obtuse. If Louis had opened his eyes a little bit sooner, they could have snogged long ago, and exchanged blowjobs in the depths of the Widener library _weeks_ ago. 

“I think you both care about this way too much,” Zayn says.

“You would say that,” Niall says. “You didn’t even do Primal Scream with us. Stayed inside and didn’t let your balls shrivel up. Boring.”

“I’ll do it in the spring, then,” Zayn says. “I’m not nearly as self-sacrificing as you lot. Plus, I don’t really get the whole tradition thing.”

“And this, on all nights,” Louis exclaims. “The river gods are listening, Zayn.” Louis finally removes his hand from Harry’s mouth, and Harry lets himself breathe a little.

“I’m starting to think you actually believe in this,” Zayn says.

“Agreed,” Harry says. “I mean, the checklist stuff is fun, but you realize that our housing assignment is from an algorithm and not some mythical beings in the river, right?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You lot are no fun. No wonder Harry hasn’t had sex in the stacks yet.”

Harry shoots him a scandalized look while Niall and Liam laugh in the background. Louis quirks his grin at him, wordlessly trying to apologize, but Harry won’t have any of it.

“Aw, don’t pout. I’m sure you’ll have sex in the stacks before graduation. You have about three more years,” Louis says, patting Harry’s cheek.

Harry rolls his eyes, and turns around, pointedly turning his back on Louis. His phone buzzes with a text from Ed.

_who actually holds class the day before housing? anyway, just left. are you at the river?_

Harry sits up to peek outside the window. It’s mostly dark at this point. He’s eager to get started, as much as he was taking the piss out of Louis earlier. He likes feeling a part of something-- it’s why he was so invested in the checklist, why he loved every second of Primal Scream, and why he spends most of his days thinking of this campus as home. 

_we’re at niall and liam’s-- canaday b. come up for pizza before we head to the river... prepare your body for the onslaught of booze?_

“Who are you texting?” Louis asks, sliding his hand into Harry’s hair soothingly.

Harry resists the urge to smack Louis upside the head. He also resists the urge to tackle him and snog him in front of their best mates. Instead, he chooses to sit still.

“Ed,” he responds, watching the message change from ‘sent’ to ‘delivered’.

“Where is he?” Zayn asks.

“Just left class. Told him to come here first.”

Niall nods, and spreads himself further on the floor. “Ed’s awesome, Harry. Good find.”

Harry laughs. “Glad you think so, Ni. You’re going to be the one sharing a room with him.”

It isn’t long before there’s a knock on the front door, and Liam opens it just enough for Ed to step through.

“Someone let me in the bottom,” he says, tossing his rucksack off in the corner. “Told me which room was yours. Probably need better security, mates.”

Liam groans, while Niall lets out a barking laugh. Ed moves over to help himself to a couple of slices of pizza. 

“What’s the plan?” he asks around the square. 

Harry shrugs. “It’s dark, but like, Grimmy and Greg said to wait until it was really dark?” 

“So helpful,” Louis says. “‘Really dark,’ honestly.”

Zayn shoots a look at Harry, trying not to snicker. Harry smirks back, still keeping his back against Louis’ knees, just so he won’t see him laugh.

“Can someone, like, properly explain this to me?” Liam asks. “I just know there’s fire involved.”

Louis sighs. “We go down to the river and light a little boat on fire as a sacrifice to get the houses we want. Then we walk around and take shots, basically.”

“We walk to each of the river houses’ courtyards and toast there,” Harry clarifies.

Liam looks thoughtful. “So that’s, what, nine shots?” 

Harry smirks and nods.

Liam looks slightly uncomfortable.

“Anyone want to warm up first?” Ed asks, pulling a tin and a baggie of rolling papers out of his knapsack. Louis practically climbs over Harry in his haste to get to Ed, and Zayn and Niall follow quickly, heading into Niall and Liam’s room and shutting the door. Harry looks over at Liam and the two laugh, listening as they can hear the boys opening a window. 

Harry moves just enough to plop himself into the chair Louis had just vacated. He waves his hand uselessly at the pizza box until Liam takes pity on him and hands it over.

Harry balances the box on his lap and eats another slice, leaning over the box. The box is covered in grease splotches, but the voice in the back of his head tells him to eat up, though, since there’s nothing worse than drinking on an empty stomach.

Liam flops into the bean bag, letting out an ‘oof’ at the lack of support it offers.

“Don’t worry about it, Li,” Harry says after swallowing a bite. “Don’t take all 9 if you don’t want.”

“That sounds like the line off a porno,” Liam says.

Harry almost chokes on his next bite.

“What kind of porn are you watching, mate? Didn’t take you for a gangbanger?” He laughs incredulously.

Liam’s laughing into his hand, eyes crinkling. “Fuck off. Someone’s gotta take care of your drunk arses all night. Especially if these ones are going to be stoned.”

“Someone’s going to singe an eyebrow, for sure,” Harry says. “As long as they don’t come near my hair,” he adds as an afterthought. 

Harry hears laughter flare up in the hallway, and out in the Yard, as groups start making their way down to the river. 

“I’m excited for next year,” Harry says. “Like, I don’t want to rush the end of this year, because I don’t really want to go back to Cheshire, but I’m pumped to live with you lads, wherever we end up.”

Liam hums. “Yeah, though don’t pretend it has as much to do with me as it does that you’ll be within breathing distance of Louis practically always,” Liam laughs.

“You make me sound like a creep!” Harry laughs. 

“Nope, just a schoolboy with a crush,” Liam winks.

“Ugh, I don’t really want to talk about it. He’s driving me mental.”

“I’m so glad I roped myself into this situation by agreeing to live with you both. Are you sure this is a good idea?” Liam asks. Liam was always the worrier.

Harry looks over at Niall’s door, making sure it’s still shut and he lowers his voice.

“Yeah, I asked him about it on the way over. It’s fine. Don’t worry. We wouldn’t fuck up the living situation for everyone.”

Liam nods. Harry doesn’t know what else to say, so he changes the subject. 

“Are you looking at internships for the summer then?”

Liam nods. “Something back home, though. I miss my sister and my mum.”

Harry gets it. “I miss my mum, too, but part of me really wants this internship just so I can travel and not have to deal with my mates from home.”

“Just too different from them?” Liam asks. Harry shrugs.

“Yeah, no. I don’t know. I was always the secretly clever one, and back during Christmas hols, they wouldn’t let me forget it. Whenever I said something stupid, they’d say ‘Okay, Harvard’ or ‘No wonder Oxford rejected you’. Teasing, like, but not really.”

Harry rubs at his nose a bit, a nervous tic from when he confesses something he’d rather keep secret. 

Liam kicks out at Harry, barely grazing his shins. “No wonder Oxford rejected you,” he teases, “if you’re stupid enough to keep friends that are pricks.”

“Funny, I’m still friends with you,” Harry laughs, getting up to punch Liam in the thigh.

Niall’s bedroom door swings open, and the other boys come back into the common area, letting the sweet and pungent smoke waft out with them. Harry smiles as Liam wrinkles his nose up. Harry gives it another year before Liam’s taking hits off the bong with Louis.

“Lads,” Louis greets, eyeing Harry looming over Liam. 

“Ready to go?” Harry asks, straightening up, winking at Louis. Louis smiles and nods, and Harry notices his eyes are a little bloodshot, his smile a little bit easier.

Niall grabs the two bottles of vodka and shoves them in his coat’s inner pockets. Harry knows that Niall purchased that coat for the very sole reason of it having inner pockets. 

“Okay, does everyone have their designated shot glass?” Liam asks, as he passes them out.

“Should we have decorated them?” Harry asks. 

Zayn and Ed snort behind him, and Harry shoots them a smirk.

“Let’s move,” Niall urges, ushering everyone out of the room. They shrug their coats on as they go, because even with it feeling like spring during the day, it’s still March and it’s cooler down by the water. Louis grabs the box, papers, and markers that were in the corner, and walks heavily down the stairs behind Harry. 

“Wait,” Harry says, as they’re about to leave the building. “Shot first?”

The others chorus ‘yes’, and Niall quickly moves to remove one of the bottles of Stoli from his coat. He quickly unscrews the top, looking around to make sure no one’s about to bust them, and quickly pours the vodka into the outstretched shot glasses, feeling some spill on his own hand and Niall’s formerly fresh white trainers.

“Alright, cheers,” calls Ed, as they all do a quick shout and slam it back. Harry winces as he feels the vodka sliding down his throat. He’s never been crazy about doing shots, particularly the taste of straight vodka, but he also isn’t one to be picky.

“Lads! Lads! Lads!” Harry jokingly chants as they shove the doors open and tumble out into the night. Harry takes a deep breath in and feels Zayn’s hands on his shoulder pushing him forward. It probably wasn’t the smartest, congregating in Niall and Liam’s first-- they’re the ones who live furthest from the river, after all. But since their group became something of a wolfpack, they’ve always met there. Harry truly feels sorry for their blockmates. 

There are other groups milling about the Yard, clumping together in 4s and 6s and 8s in ways that normally don’t happen on the average night on campus. Energy is high, Harry can feel it pouring off the other groups, and he thinks that the yellow lamp lights that line the Yard make everyone look a bit heavenly. 

These are the moments, he thinks, that look like advertisements for university. Of course, these are also the moments that would never make advertisements-- not as long as there are overprotective mums and dads out there.

Their walk down to the river is mostly uneventful, and while they pass a member of the HUPD close to Harry’s own dorm, they manage to stay inconspicuous. Louis snickers quietly as they walk by, which makes Harry almost lose it himself. Even if Louis is ‘just a little high,’ he manages to giggle incessantly, and even sober, Harry can’t resist giving in to Louis’ emotions. The officer must decide to turn a blind eye to all of the kids wandering the Yard, just acting as a presence in case things go wrong.

Ed salutes him after they pass.

They hustle down Holyoke Street, balancing on the brick walkways, trying to dodge other groups of people heading back from the river. Despite having only taken one shot and being as sober as anything, Harry almost stumbles into the street. Zayn acts as the hero, grabbing onto Harry’s coat at the last second, narrowly avoiding being taken out by a bicyclist. What a terrible way it would have been to go out, he thinks to himself.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Haz,” Louis says fondly as they start getting close to the houses. 

They pass through Winthrop’s courtyard, and Harry can hear the chants around, hears the whoops of smaller groups. Harry tries not to look around, lest the upperclassmen think they’ve done their duty already, but he keeps wanting to take it all in, let it sit warmly in his gut for when he needs cheering up during the summer.

“Lads!” Niall shouts, pointing ahead as they come out on the other side of Winthrop’s courtyard. The river is up ahead of them now, with the faint moonlight glittering on its surface. Harry’s not convinced they’d be able to see it if it weren’t for the lights.

About two dozen little fires float along the river, some flopping over and burning out as soon as they hit the water. 

The six of them stand a few feet away from a group of girls posing with their boat, documenting their River Run. 

“Okay,” Zayn says, squatting down into the damp grass as Louis drops their boat supplies on a nearby bench.

Zayn immediately sets to work, folding an origami boat, and setting it in the cardboard lid. Harry rolls up a piece of paper and sets it as a kind of mast, taping it to the box. Zayn’s at work drawing them a flag to attach to the mast, and Liam rolls his eyes fondly. Zayn still puts his effort into perfecting their flag, even though it may not last more than five seconds, either due to fire or water.

“How do you spell Pforzheimer?” Niall asks.

Harry makes grabby hands at the marker before Niall has a chance to misspell it and land them directly in Pforzheimer House for the next three years.

Zayn intercepts, though, and writes the name out in crisp, clean handwriting. Louis stands over him, nodding his approval, as if he can act as a representative of the river gods. Harry shoots Louis a small smile.

Liam nudges him, whispering, “I thought we didn’t want PfoHo?”

Harry nods. “You only write the houses that you don’t want. So we’re putting PfoHo, Currier, and Cabot.”

“Quad houses,” Liam notices.

“Obviously,” Harry responds, partly sarcastic. “I don’t mind it out there, but Louis is dead against it.”

“Hey, why are you writing Mather?” Liam asks, peering over Zayn’s shoulder.

“I hate it,” Zayn says, capping the marker.

“There’s nothing wrong with Mather,” Harry exclaims. He knows it’s a little far, but it’s a busy house and he already has some mates that live there.

“It’s far,” Louis agrees.

“Oh please,” Niall laughs. “The reason you don’t want Mather and the reason Zayn doesn’t want Mather are completely different. Both hilarious, though.”

“Oh, look at that. Zayn and Louis can roll their eyes in unison, now,” Ed comments, smiling.

“Do share, Niall,” Liam says.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Niall says, moving into his presentation voice. “First, it’s well obvious that Louis’ problem with Mather isn’t its distance. We all know there’s the shuttle and plus, Louis runs, like, 3k every day. I think we all know that Louis’ problem is with a junior by the name of Nick Grimshaw.”

“He _is_ a prick and I’m convinced he’s freezing me out of the Biz Board on purpose,” Louis argues. “Who wants to be in a house of pricks? I know I don’t.”

Niall chuckles and Harry shakes his head. 

“And Zayn, well, I think you’re holding some leftover resentment from Mather Lather.”

Zayn scowls, but doesn’t deny it.

“Oh my god,” Harry laughs. “That’s right-- you had that rash for, like, two weeks!”

“It was on my face,” Zayn says. “It was dead embarrassing! I had to keep pushing my date back. She thought I was putting her on.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Liam says. “I mean, who would have thought you’d be allergic to soap? I don’t think any of us thought foam could do that kind of damage.” Liam pets Zayn’s shoulder sympathetically. 

Harry looks over at Louis, who’s still stifling back his laughter. 

Harry remembers the way Zayn’s unusually sculpted face had looked so red and blotchy for the next few days. It had been a fun night, though, even if Zayn had denounced the whole thing as a failure. Any excuse Harry had to prance around in as little clothing as possible sounded fine. Mather Lather was his first foam party, and honestly, the fact that he made it out of there without slipping and breaking his ankle had been a sign of things moving in his favor. He and Louis had danced together a lot that night, and Harry remembers a few particularly charged moments where he had brushed soap and foam off of Louis’ forehead. Feeling Louis’ soapy back against his chest was just one moment in a long, long line of them that convinced Harry he absolutely needed to tell Louis how he felt. 

He thought Mather Lather would have been a turning point, but here he is, a month later, and he’s in an even more nebulous place with Louis.

Harry shakes himself out of his thoughts, and looks up to where Louis is staring at him. It’s a stare oddly reminiscent of Mather Lather. For a moment, a shiver goes through him, as if Louis can read all of Harry’s thoughts. Which is silly, of course, since if that were possible, they could have been snogging months and months ago.

“Okay, so let’s not hope for Mather, then, in the name of Zayn’s personal boycott against Mather Lather.”

“They also have mice,” Zayn adds.

“I think all the river houses have mice, mate. But I suppose mice is not a proper trade-in for a single room, innit?” Harry responds. 

“We realize that just because we write down these houses, doesn’t make it any less likely that we’re going to get placed in them?” Ed asks. “What if we find out tomorrow we get Mather and we just spent all this time shitting on them?”

Louis shrugs. “It won’t happen,” he dismisses.

Liam takes another look at their haphazardly created boat. “Looks good,” he comments. “We ready?”

Harry nods excitedly.

They all take some newspaper and crumble it up, throwing them into the cardboard box.

Harry carries the box over to the edge of the bank, feeling his boots slide a little bit into the muddy edge. “Alright?” he asks Zayn, who holds the match and matchbook. 

“Alright,” he answers, striking the match and holding it to the newspaper. The newspaper lights easy enough, though Niall rushes forward, slipping on the mud, to splash some of their vodka stash on the boat, watching the flame rush up, nearly taking off the edges of Harry’s hair.

“Je _sus_ ,” Harry shrieks, leaning away from the flame. “What did I tell you?” he shouts to Liam as he crouches forward and carefully places their boat at the edge of the water. 

“Fuck, Haz, watch it,” Zayn says, grabbing Harry’s shoulders when Harry leans a little too close to the flame again. 

“Here,” Louis says, offering a long stick from the shore. Harry smiles and thanks him as he grabs the stick, turning quickly to push their boat into the river before it burns out. It lasts a good 45 seconds before it capsizes, which Harry is very pleased about.

“Lads!” he cheers again, faux grunting. 

“High fives,” Liam demands, and they all agree that for a hastily designed boat, it did them justice.

“I think the river gods will be very pleased with that,” Harry says, slinging an arm across Louis’ middle.

Louis reaches back and cards his hand through Harry’s nearly singed hair, smiling up at Harry. “Agreed.”

“Okay, gentlemen! Onwards on our journey?” Harry asks.

The others nod in agreement.

“Start at Mather? Work our way back to the Yard?” Liam suggests.

“We just agreed we didn’t want Mather,” Louis protests.

“You just don’t want to see Grimmy. Look, it’s good luck to take a shot there, anyway!” Harry asserts. He bats his eyelashes and looks down at Louis. “You’d rather be there than the Quad, right?”

“Enough of your cheek, Styles,” Louis responds, poking a smirking Harry in the ribs. The others look on as if they’re not quite sure what to do. Fair enough, Harry thinks. He’s in the same boat, figuratively speaking.

Louis cheekily suggests taking the shuttle over to Mather, but Harry lightly kicks him in the shins until he shuts up. Louis grins at him, and the five of them walk the rest of the way to the farthest dorm along the river.

“Niall, what did your mum say when you told her about our block?” Zayn asks. Niall’s ahead of him, but he turns to smile mischievously.

“Oh, she moaned and groaned that I was letting the Englishmen take over my mind,” he laughs. “And when I suggested it’d be better than the Yanks, she said ‘it most certainly was not,’” he finished, imitating his mother’s even thicker brogue, her higher pitch.

“Is your mum badgering you about settling down with a nice Harvard girl, too? I swear, a ‘nice, American, Harvard woman’” Zayn complains, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, I tried telling her it didn’t matter where she’s from or whatever, but my family’s really into this idea of going Ivy,” he finishes.

“Oh no,” Liam adds, trying to trump them both. “Both my parents actively discouraged me from going after Harvard women. Literally told me to go for women from BU or Wellesley. Said Harvard women were too ‘career’ focused.”

“Oh man, do not let Danielle hear that,” Louis says, eyebrows raised.

The boys approach Mather House, Harry craning his neck to look up at the building as it juts upwards. Not a lot of the buildings around here were tall, so he’s always thought Mather stuck out, didn’t look quite right, all cement instead of old charm.

Just past the gate, they see people congregating under a spotlight. Harry spots Grimmy right away, his gravity-defying hair setting him apart. That and the sign that says ‘Welcome Future Mather Residents!!!’

“I feel so welcomed,” Harry shouts over to him, waving. He can feel Louis stiffen next to him. Grimmy waves them over, introduces Harry to some of the other people who live in Mather.

“These are my blockmates,” Harry says, gesturing to the boys behind him.

“Six of you, huh?” says another upperclassman, who Harry doesn’t recognize.

Louis pastes himself to Harry’s back, letting his hand come up and play with Harry’s hair again. Harry both loves and loathes when Louis does this.

“Yep,” Lous answers.

“Can’t wait to see you boys around these parts,” Grimmy says, and Harry just knows he’s trying to bait Louis. He really needs to reevaluate his friendships.

“We don’t really want--” Louis starts before Harry reaches back and slaps him upside the head to get him to stop talking. Louis laughs, low, and Harry feels the breaths hot on the back of his neck. He feels himself blush, despite the chill in the night air.

“Okay lads, shot time,” Niall announces, pulling out the already opened bottle of alcohol. The boys all unearth their shot glasses, Louis still holding his arm tight around Harry even as he holds his other hand out expectantly. 

Grimmy puts his sign down in order to pour a splash of vodka into his own plastic cup. He toasts with them, and throws back the alcohol, grimacing. As soon as they’re done, it feels like the whole house descends upon them, cheering and whooping. Harry almost feels like blocking his ears it’s so loud, but he’s grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. Even though Louis would be miffed as hell, it wouldn’t be bad, belonging like this.

“Move on, children,” Grimmy says, pushing their shoulders dramatically. “We’ll see you tomorrow!” He waves them off, but the others in the house are stomping and cheering still. 

The boys walk back through the gates as another couple of blocking groups enter, the shouts rising up from all around them.

Louis stays close as they make their way over to Dunster House.

“Oh shit, this is excellent,” Ed mutters as they get close. At the gate to greet them is an upperclassman dressed up in a moose costume, holding the house’s shield.

“Woo!” Liam and Niall, shout, clearly getting into the spirit of things. Louis grins wide next to him, pulling him in tighter and cheering as they enter the gates to announce their arrival.

The upperclassmen swoop down on them immediately, and while Harry doesn’t know anyone off the top of his head to look for here, he feels like he could make a home here, under this clocktower. He probably wouldn’t be able to convince his study groups to trek out here, but that just meant more time with his blockmates. Or Louis.

“Go on!” someone shouts with a thick accent, straight from the southern US. He feels someone slapping his shoulders as he takes his third shot of the evening. It goes down smoother this time, like the first two were just warmups. He still hates shots, of course, and he feels the ball of warmth hover just above his gut. He looks over to grin at Louis, who looks like the shiteater Harry always knew he was.

“Best tradition ever!” Louis whispers, leaning close. “It’s like trick-or-treat, but with alcohol.” Harry wants to lean in more, too, wonders if he can pass it off as whispering.

Louis glances down at Harry’s mouth, back up to his eyes, letting his smile settle.

Harry almost forgot that the others smoked, too, which probably explains the way that Louis grabs at Harry’s back pocket as they get pulled out of the Dunster courtyard by the kid in the moose suit. Louis’ fingers play at Harry’s waist like they’re reciting Brahms, and Harry lets his body turn into Louis’, lets his head drift down to lightly headbutt Louis before dragging him on to their next destination.

Leverett House finds them being serenaded by a group of upperclassmen wearing bunny ears who seem to be even more drunk than the boys themselves. Harry thinks this seems unfair.

“This is our house song,” shouts a girl to Harry, close enough for her lip gloss to smudge on the shell of his ear. He resists the urge to wipe it off immediately, instead nodding politely and waiting for the current Leverett group to finish their song.

They huddle up with a couple of upperclassmen and toast to the river gods again. Harry swallows the shot of vodka straight down, and he mentally pats himself on the back for how good tonight is going. 

“Yeah!” Harry whoops pounding at his chest for effect. “Go Lev!” He manages to keep a straight face, which is hard when Louis and Niall are cackling on either side of him. 

Another upperclassman, a tall burly bloke donned in a Leverett House sweatshirt, appears with a tray full of something sweet and delicious.

“Are there drugs in this?” Liam asks. Niall dives at the offering without waiting for an answer.

Harry cautiously takes a bite, groaning at the butter and sugar that hit his taste buds. His tongue flicks out to lick at any remaining sugar. After the harsh taste of the vodka all evening, the overwhelming sweetness is welcome. He turns to look at Louis wide-eyed.

“Oh my god,” he says.

“I want to live in this house,” Niall says, before grabbing another treat.

“It’s the house monkey bread,” the bloke explains. He shoos them off quickly though, as soon as Louis reaches for his third piece. “You guys can’t eat all this, go.”

They drag themselves away, Niall looking back wistfully as they move.

“Winthrop’s so big,” he complains as they approach the next house.

“I heard their dining hall is pretty diverse,” Harry says, trying to be positive.

“Okay,” Louis laughs, tucked into his side, “let’s not pretend that you and Zayn are still going to be vegetarians this time next year.”

Zayn scoffs indignantly next to them. 

“Excuse you,” he says. “I think you mean ‘let’s not pretend that _Harry_ is still going to be a vegetarian.”

“Hey,” Harry protests. “I care deeply about cruelty to animals. It’s like feminism.”

“What are you on about?” Niall asks, pulling his coat tighter.

“Animal abuse and the food industry. Ecofeminism,” Harry murmurs. 

“Why is he talking about feminism?” Ed whispers to Liam, who shrugs.

Zayn nudges Louis. “Your boy’s talking shit again.”

Louis smiles. “Zayn, catch up. He’s _always_ talking shit.” 

“I’m right here, you pricks,” Harry laughs, pushing Louis away from him playfully. “It’s serious stuff.”

“Right, right, very serious,” Louis agrees with all the effort of someone who’s hardly listening. He crowds back into Harry’s space quickly. “You’re definitely the best vegetarian I know.”

“I hate you,” Harry says, smiling.

There’s a moment of quiet as they cross Plympton Street, the heart of Harvard Square seemingly stopped for the gangs of freshman wandering about.

“And here I was thinking you were a big fan of sausage, mate,” Ed says off-handed, staring straight ahead. 

Harry lets go of Louis long enough to jump on Ed’s back in an effort to take him down. Harry thinks he’d probably be a lot more intimidating if he could stop laughing for half a second. He wraps one arm around his chest, trying to use his other arm to poke incessantly at his gut, his back, his head. Ed’s response is to mostly try and twist out of his grasp and laugh, though, so Harry knows his intimidation factor needs work. 

Ed ends up dropping Harry to the pavement, where he sits and pouts.

“Why didn’t you try and catch me?” he asks Niall, who just shrugs indifferently, and holds a hand to help Harry back up.

They finally make it back to Winthrop House, and it feels so long since they started the evening, it makes Harry a little tired. He grabs at the bottle of vodka from Niall’s jacket. He unscrews the cap, steels his own face, and takes a large swig of the stuff. 

Louis kneads at his neck a little, looking questioningly at him.

“Didn’t smoke with you lot, had to catch up somehow,” Harry explains.

Louis smiles and makes a grab for the bottle himself, taking a smaller gulp while maintaining eye contact.

Harry feels his heart quicken and his cheeks flush more. He always worries he looks like some kind of china doll when he’s tipsy, all rosy cheeked and innocent looking.

Louis looks anything but innocent.

Louis passes the bottle back, and Harry one ups him again, rising to the challenge.

“Will you fuckers stop,” Zayn demands, reaching between them and stealing the bottle, passing it back to Niall.

Winthrop doesn’t have any offers of baked goods or students dressed up as animals, so Harry is naturally a little disappointed. It’s not bad, of course, there’s still lots of chanting and high energy as they get to the middle of the courtyard. They take their shots, and now Harry’s starting to feel it. 

“I don’t want Winthrop,” Zayn confesses as they walk out and towards Eliot House. “They look like a bunch of knobs with their--” he gestures at his forehead-- “sweatbands.”

“You don’t think you could rock a sweatband, Zayn?” Harry asks, winking.

“Not all of us feel the need to put anything and everything on our heads, Haz.”

“Does it really matter where we live, though? Our house doesn’t define us,” Ed says philosophically as they wander down the path towards Eliot. It’s dark, and the few street lights along the way don’t do much to make things visible.

“I reckon it doesn’t,” Liam agrees, “but don’t you feel like even if we didn’t want to, we’d have to represent the house? Rather’d do that for a house I wanted.”

“I think you do it because you care about the people. No one wants to be like, ‘yeah my house is bollocks,’” Louis says.

“We don’t really know about which houses are good, though. We just go based on what the upperclassmen say,” Niall points out.

“Well, and what is, like, tradition and stuff. Like, everyone knows that Quad houses are bigger and have crazier parties. Everyone knows Adams are stuffed up pricks,” Harry says.

“Not everyone knows that,” Zayn laughs. “Not all of us can be Legacies,” he says, reaching out to poke Harry’s cheek.

Harry swats Zayn’s hand away.

“Fuck off, I’m not a Legacy. It’s --”

“Robin, we know,” Louis says. “We know your stepdad is not the reason you’re here. Just not all of us have someone giving us inside information on courses and houses and whatnot.”

“I tell you everything I know,” Harry mumbles. 

“So, like, now wouldn’t be a good time to mention my mum’s maiden name is Pennypacker, huh,” Liam jokes as they get to Eliot. They wander around the buildings, peeking through different courtyards, until they see groups piled together. There’s singing, always more singing Harry notes, another house song. Eliot’s mascot seems to be the elephant, if the people with Dumbo masks are any indication. 

“Alright, boys,” says one of the upperclassmen as she gathers them in a huddle. At Eliot we have a very specific toast. In order to drink here, you must follow the rules of this toast.”

The boys nod solemnly. 

“Okay, it goes, ‘Floreat domus de Eliot,’” she says, her Latin flowing effortlessly off her tongue. “And you respond ‘Domus.’ ‘Domus,’ got it?”

The boys nod again.

Niall pours the shots again, and Harry specifically doesn’t comment on how his aim is getting worse, judging by the sticky vodka making its way down his knuckles.

“Floreat domus de Eliot,” she toasts.

“Domus!” they chorus, clinking their shot glasses and chasing them back. The upperclassman joins them, holding a plastic cup much like Grimmy had. This time, Liam coughs into the back of his hand.

“I think I should call it, lads.”

“No!” they all shout. The girl they had just taken their shot with shakes Liam’s shoulders, encouraging him to keep moving.

“We only have a few left,” Harry reasons.

Liam sighs, but nods. He doesn’t put up much of a fight, Harry thinks to himself, so he doesn’t feel too guilty.

They hop over to Kirkland quickly, following close behind a group of four girls, decked out in self-decorated t-shirts.

“Should we have made t-shirts?” Louis whispers to Harry, his eye gleaming.

“Blockmates forever,” Harry whispers back in a fake American accent, laughing.

The upperclassmen are chanting “Kirk-land” repeatedly.

“I think we’re in the right place,” Harry deadpans.

“You know, after the songs, this isn’t very thrilling,” Ed muses.

Louis looks over at the colorful flyers lining the bulletin board space a few feet away.

“Oh look, Haz, they put on yoga in this house.”

Harry’s eyes light up.

“You always make fun of me when I do yoga.”

“Not always,” Louis argues, only letting it go when Niall physically grabs his hand and holds his shotglass out in front of him. Harry gives him a bright smile.

“Kirk-land! Kirk-land! Kirk-land!” the others chant, starting off slowly, and getting louder and louder as the boys get ready to take their shot. Harry’s tipsy now, and when he goes to throw the shot back, the upperclassmen all start shouting and shoving about, causing him to partly miss his own mouth. He catches most of the vodka, but some goes splashing down his chin, wetting the collar of his coat. He swallows what he has miserably, quickly moving to wipe his chin and neck before the others notice.

Louis, of course, notices.

His eyes twinkle underneath the streetlamps that litter the courtyard.

Harry looks down as he wipes his face again with his coat sleeve. 

“So many jokes about swallowing,” Louis says. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

“So don’t start,” Harry says, feeling brave. “Or you’ll never finish.”

“You make no sense, pumpkin. Are you a bit pissed?” Louis says, patting his cheek.

“Shut up,” Harry says. He turns back to the others, causing Louis’ hand to fall to his shoulder. “Lowell next?”

“Yeah!” they crow, pumping their fists. It’s obvious now that the alcohol is affecting them. Their previous laughs at the groups of capital L Lads have all but faded, leaving them in their drunken state to be exactly the types of idiots they had laughed at earlier. Their previous ability to walk in relatively straight lines has seemingly devolved. Harry shuffles along, dragging his worn boots across the pavement as they approach Lowell house.

Harry’s eyes move straight to Lowell House’s bright blue clocktower, and he can’t help but envy the architecture of the buildings. It’s so quintessentially _Harvard_ , its deep red bricks with ivy climbing up the side, the large, arching windows. He thinks about Mather House, and its cold concrete, and he looks at Lowell House, and he thinks he wouldn’t mind bragging a bit if they lived here.

There’s signs held about, all big blue lettering, proclaiming “I LOVE LOWELL” and “LOWELL: BECAUSE ADAMS SUCKS” and Harry finds himself holding out his shotglass before they even circle up.

The Lowell residents join them, throwing beads around their necks. Harry looks down and fingers the plastic L that sits right over the front of his collar now.

“Best thing about Lowell House,” the guy slurs, “is the backdoor.”

The girl nods.

“We’re all about the backdoor here.”

Harry tightens his lips in an effort not to crack. Louis stills next to him, and Harry looks down in an effort to not nudge him.

“What?” Liam asks, clearly also in on the joke.

“There’s the gate in the back of Lowell that’s only for residents. So if you’re coming from Winthrop or Eliot, you can just get in the back.”

At this, Harry can’t help himself, and he buries his head in Louis’ neck, breathing in the wool collar of his coat as he breaks into giggles. He’s not a mature drunk, he knows, but he can’t help laughing at anal jokes.

“The joke is too easy,” Louis says, looking at Ed while Niall pours the vodka into their shots. He places his spare hand on Harry’s back, between his shoulderblades.

“I’ll say it, then,” Zayn laughs. “May we not need Lowell House in order to get in the back entrance!”

“Hear, hear!” Harry shouts, still laughing as he smacks his shot glass against the others before taking it. His finesse has gone downhill, as well. As he lowers his head back to look at the others, he feels his head swim, and he knows now that he’s proper drunk. He knows it in the way you sometimes don’t know until you stand up, only to immediately slump down again. He turns his head back and forth slowly, watching as the boys and the courtyard seem to follow .03 seconds behind the rest of him.

Quincy House, Harry knows, is where Greg lives, so he’s fully expecting to get sidetracked as soon as they make it to the Quincy courtyard. Greg is more Louis’ friend than Harry’s, but the way the two of them have intertwined their lives in the last few months makes it so that all of their friends at least know the other by name, if not every single fact about them ever. 

One time, when they were getting coffee at the Peet’s in the Square, Grimmy had interrupted Harry’s story, just to say, “Harry, you don’t need to quantify every time you talk about him. ‘My mate Louis,’ honestly, I know who you’re bloody going on about. I also don’t need to hear about his sister’s maths test, by the way.” That had been a moment that had alerted him to the fact that he had maybe let his feelings for Louis get too transparent.

Greg’s there, of course, standing in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by other students. He’s popular on campus, the kind of bloke that was probably whispered about before even setting foot in Harvard Yard. Very much in the same vein as Louis, which is probably part of why they get on so well. 

“Gentlemen,” he greets, as the previous gang of girls run off to their next house. “Welcome to the best house, Quincy.”

He pulls Louis in close, temporarily away from Harry, and Harry doesn’t whine about it. At least not out loud.

“Louis, it’s important to note that Quincy’s quite close to the Phoenix,” Greg says, smirking. 

“So’s Lowell,” Louis says. 

“Yeah, but Lowell House is full of snobs. Quincy’s cool.”

Ed nudges Zayn. “Why is he trying to sell Louis? We have no choice in this.”

Zayn shrugs, clearly just as confused as Ed. 

Harry tries his best to hold Louis’ stare while they take their shot, but he ends up screwing his eyes up tight when his tongue makes sense of the vodka. The roof of his mouth feels fuzzy at this point, and he probably looks proper strange running his tongue over it repeatedly.

“Okay boys, off with you. We’ve got more adoring fans to attend to,” Greg says, squeezing Louis’ shoulders. 

“Prat,” Louis shouts fondly as he drags the others away.

“Last, but not least,” Harry says. It’s probably for the best. The other lads are getting sloppy with their movements, and Liam’s starting to look a little green in the face. It’s a sad state, he realizes slowly, that he’s the most in control in their group. He’s a cliche of an American uni student, binge drinking until he laughs himself silly. 

“Why’s Greg James talking to you about the Phoenix, Lou?” Niall asks, smirking.

Harry jumps in the conversation, as good a time as any to brag about his best mate.

“Greg told Louis a couple of weeks ago that he’s one of their first in line for punching season,” he says, smiling.

Zayn laughs loudly. “You in a final club? Really.”

Louis looks mildly affronted. “I could be in a final club.”

“You’re not enough of a pussy hound, mate,” Zayn reasons.

“It’s a social club, Zayn, honestly. And it’s, like, a network that lasts forever, so I definitely wouldn’t say no.”

“I’m sure by autumn, it won’t just be the Phoenix. Lou’s going to be one of those blokes who punches for three final clubs,” Harry laughs.

Louis gives him a long look. “He may have also mentioned knowing someone in the Spee who was compiling an early list of punches.”

Harry laughs even louder, clapping Louis on the shoulder. It’s a reminder, of course, of how much of Louis he doesn’t have. He’s just one of a massive group of people who love Louis, want to be friends with him, want him in their social circles.

With no cars on the road, it’s all too easy for them to walk in front of the Lampoon, and up to the last house on their trek, Adams. There’s only a small group of students congregated under the ornate archway. It’s the best location, no doubt, the closest to the heart of Harvard Square, but not a whole lot of room to breathe. 

Harry laughs when he sees the men in tuxedos holding out a bottle of champagne. He sneaks a look over at Ed, whose hiking socks are basically the fanciest he gets. Ed looks confused, and pleased, but mostly slack-eyed and faded at this point. 

“Congrats for finishing, dude,” says one of the lads in the tuxedos. “Last shot on us?”

Harry knows it’s a bad idea, of course, since they’ve been drinking vodka all night and accepting booze from strangers is probably not smart. Harry shrugs though, because free alcohol, and holds out his shotglass, laughing as the others follow suit. It’s just champagne, he tells himself.

It’s strange to taste, after he had just started to become used to the harshness of the vodka. 

He laughs when he thinks about how foolish they must look, shooting a little champagne out of cheap plastic shot glasses like children. It comes back to him, sometimes, how young they are, really. They feel like giants sometimes, with the weight of their families’ expectations on them, but really, this is it. This is _it_ , he knows, the best times of his life are set to be with the five lads next to him, and he’s standing here in the early spring night, sipping on champagne out of a cheap plastic miniature cup offered to him by a kid in a full tuxedo. It’s ridiculous.

The boys look at him questioningly, but Harry doesn’t know how to explain, so he just smiles down at the ground and tries not to laugh. 

They leave and cross Mass Ave again back into the main Yard, heading back to Canaday Hall. It’s unspoken really, but they know Liam was the one with his name down to receive the housing letter in the morning. Harry wants to find out where he’ll live with his mates, not by some phone call. 

Louis curls his arms around Harry’s neck, practically begging for a piggy back ride back to Liam and Niall’s suite. Harry tries to indulge him, of course, but the second Louis’ feet are off the ground, Harry finds himself toppling them both over into a shrug out front of Grays Hall. The other lads are laughing furiously, taking big gasps and clutching their stomachs. Not that Louis and Harry are much better, except clutching each other and not making a move to right themselves.

“Oh my god, are you okay? he hears someone say, and Harry pops his head up to tell whoever she is that they’re fine. Some residual giggles are there, but he does manage to convince the girl they’re fine, to no help from his friends.

“Wait,” Louis mutters, as he scrambles up and after the girl, as she disappears into Grays.

“Where are you going?” Niall laughs, but Louis doesn’t answer. 

This is also the moment when Liam suddenly stops laughing, turns his head, and spews the entire contents of his stomach out onto the pavement.

“Oh fuck!” Zayn shouts, jumping back.

Harry pulls himself up to standing position quickly, not really paying attention to where Louis’ run off to, just as he sees Liam rush over to a different shrub, as he retches again.

“Poor pup went too hard,” Niall muses, standing back and watching.

Ed moves to go console Liam, though it’s more of just a couple quick pats on the back.

Harry looks around, checking to see if there’s a spigot on the side of one of the halls they could use to splash some water on Liam.

Harry turns quickly when he sees Louis pop the door of Grays open again. 

“Don’t let it close!” he loudly whispers. Louis jumps at it and keeps it open, so Harry can run in and try and find their toilet. He waves them in, Ed and Zayn essentially dragging Liam along until they lock themselves in a visitor’s loo to clean him up.

Niall, Harry, and Louis, just kind of look at each other.

Louis starts exploring, of course. When he comes back, he’s carrying a fire extinguisher, and Harry wants to ask how, why. A voice in the back of his mind shuts him up, though, since he realizes the less he knows, the less likely he is to be indicted with whatever shenanigans Louis has in mind.

Liam looks better after being cleaned up a bit, and he walks on his own as they set back out into the Yard. 

Louis decides that he’d like to become a firefighter. At least, that’s what he mumbles to Harry right before he pulls the pin on the extinguisher and holds the lever, laughing maniacally as smoke and powder billow out. He has the decency to aim it away from the group, but it starts coming back towards them with the gentle breeze, causing them to scurry away.

“Jesus fuck, Louis!” Zayn shouts.

“I think that’s like a legal offense, mate,” Ed laughs after he stops running.

Louis shrugs. “Know any future public defenders that could help me out, then?” he asks with a wink.

Ed rolls his eyes. “I’d have to be a public defender in order to have the balls to help you out.”

“Aw, you wound me,” Lous says, clutching the extinguisher to his chest.

They manage to make it back to Canaday without Louis setting it off again, or running off again, and as soon as they settle Liam into his bed with a cup of water and a bin by his bed, Niall helps himself to another slice of leftover pizza before he gives up on consciousness for the evening.

Zayn curls up on the chair immediately, Ed flinging himself down onto the beanbag. 

“You’re a crazy fucker,” Harry whispers, as he tries to brush some of the residual powder out of Louis’ hair.

Louis smiles, and from here, Harry can count all the faint freckles that dust Louis’ nose. 

“It’s why you like me,” Louis says, swaying.

“It’s why everyone likes you,” Harry reasons.

Harry peaks into Liam’s blockmates’ room, and pulls a comforter clean off one of the beds. He slides back to where Louis is sprawled out on the floor, and Harry wraps them up in it, trying to get his head to stop swirling. While he manages to stave off the spins, Louis clutches at his shoulders, and Harry thinks he can feel a whole different kind of frenzy whipping up in his head.

 

He comes to about five hours later, thankfully not drunk anymore, but with a horrible case of dry mouth. He sits up quickly when he hears the shouts moving down the hall, and it comes to him suddenly: Housing Day.

He reaches behind him to shove at Louis’ shoulder, and he sees Ed blink awake. Harry sees Zayn stir, but then squeeze his eyes tighter, ignoring the fact that their housing fate could be on their way to see them right now. Louis groans and curls in further, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist. Harry suddenly becomes disinclined to make Louis get up.

Liam walks out of his room, looking surprisingly put together for someone who was just attempting to rid himself of his intestines hours prior.

“What the hell, mate?” Harry mumbles, voice still raspy. “You looked like The Exorcist when we put you down.”

“I feel alright,” Liam says, tidying up a bit, shaking his head as he spots the fire extinguisher on its side near the door.

Harry regretfully drags himself away, standing up to get ready. He looks down to see Louis blinking and pouting at him. Harry shrugs, and moves towards the loo where he pisses and takes a swig from Liam’s blockmate’s bottle of mouthwash. It’s reminiscent of the vodka last night, a thought which briefly makes his stomach turn. He breathes through his nose, and lets the wave pass. A cup of tea, some greasy food from Annenburg, and he’d be fine.

He looks in the mirror to see some of the powder from the fire extinguisher sitting in his own hair. Fuck it, he thinks.

The others are getting ready when they hear Adams come down the hall. There’s lot of shouting, but they move right by their block, aiming for a group of girls at the end of the hall. Harry gives himself a moment of mourning for the fact that Ed would have had to actually have invested in a proper suit. Well, that’s one down, eight chances left, he thinks to himself. 

A few moments later, they hear Cabot come down the hall, chanting as they move. Harry feels himself still, feels the others do the same. They sit silently, letting the tension crackle in the room. Harry worries that Louis has stopped breathing. Harry maintains that he wouldn’t mind the Quad, though he’s not crazy about Cabot, but he wants Louis to be happy. That’s pretty much the bottom of it.

Cabot passes by, as well, and Louis lets out a deep sigh. “One Quad house, down, two more to avoid.”

The next house they hear, though, is theirs.

It’s almost as if Harry knows even before the chants stop and they knock on the door. There’s something in his heart that just knows that this is the one.

Louis looks over at him, beaming, when they do finally knock. Niall opens the door excitedly, grinning as Greg James and a bunch of others greet them on the other side.

“Well, well, well,” Greg says. “Looks like we got the British Isles of Misfit Toys.”

Everyone starts shouting then, the other Quincy folks pushing their way into the room, jumping on all the furniture in the lounge. The boys themselves, even Ed and Zayn who are normally so composed, jump and whoop. Harry thinks Quincy’s _perfect_.

The others drag the six boys out of the room, Liam barely remembering to grab his key before the door shuts behind them. They rush out of Canaday, grinning as the morning light hits them and they see the hundreds of students swarming the Yard, grinning in house colors and carrying signs and generally making more noise than should be okay before 10 AM. 

Harry’s heart swells when he realizes he is a part of this, now. He has a house to be proud of, to talk up even if he doesn’t understand why it’s undoubtedly the best. He looks behind him at the group that greeted them and he thinks ‘housemate’. It’s pretty fucking awesome.

Niall takes off running, heading into the throng of people. Harry runs off after him, laughing as he does so. His shouts to Niall to ‘wait up’ get lost in the brays of the air horns around them. Someone shoves a black t-shirt with a red Q into his hands, and slaps what he hopes is red face paint on his cheeks.

He finds Niall with his arm slung around someone in a Penguin costume, chanting “Quin-cy” with all of his voice. 

Harry pushes his way until he reaches Niall, grabbing him by the shoulders and chanting just as loud, practically screaming their house’s name in each other’s faces.

It’s only when Harry looks up to see if he can spot the other four, does he see Louis and Liam practically climbing up a light post. They’ve both also been attacked with face paint, and Liam’s been handed a big red vuvuzela. Harry keeps a hold of Niall as they push their way towards their blockmates. When Louis sees them, he lights up, hopping down off the post to get a hold of Harry.

“Looks like Quincy, then!” Harry says, grinning from ear to ear. Louis’ got a big red Q thumbed across his forehead, and he looks happy.

Louis nods and gives him a thumbs up.

“Are you happy then? We’re not off in the Quad or stuck with Grimmy?” Harry asks, reaching out to grasp around the folds of Louis’ new Quincy House t-shirt.

“Ecstatic,” Louis answers. 

“Cool,” Harry responds.

“Hey, are you still all in?” Louis asks. He has to lean in because of all the noise around them, but Harry still hears him.

“Me?” Harry asks, face full of confusion. “I’ve always been all in.”

Louis laughs, eyes crinkling up. The shouts around them drown it out, but Harry can fill it in, has done since he first heard him laugh seven months ago.

“Cool, me too,” Louis says, before he leans just that bit more in, kissing him soundly.

Harry clutches Louis’ shirt tighter, hauling him closer. Louis laughs against his lips, which gets Harry laughing, as per usual. Harry leans back in for another kiss, then another, because he really can’t help himself. It’s been weeks since the first time, and his heart already feels so full, he doesn’t know how else to react than to pour some of that happiness into Louis. 

“I want to kiss you all the time,” Louis confesses, and Harry just barely makes sense of it around the chaos. “Even more since a couple of weeks ago.”

Harry closes his eyes briefly, because yes, that did happen. He opens his eyes again and grins at Louis, hoping for once his face displays everything that he can’t vocalize.

The band starts up somewhere off to the side, the snares and horns not doing much to burn out the overwhelming euphoria of everyone around them. Harry knows they’re not here curing cancer, it’s just a laugh and a bit of fun, but there’s unity, and that’s enough for him.

“Um, you’ve got some paint on you,” Louis laughs, pressing into Harry’s forehead, where part of Louis’ Q has transferred to.

Harry shrugs. Nothing could really bother him this morning.

“And some extinguisher powder,” Louis laughs, brushing at Harry’s mess of hair.

“This is all your fault,” Harry says, nuzzling his nose against Louis’ cheek. He swoops into press another kiss to Louis’ lips, since that’s something that Louis apparently wants. 

He’s pretty sure some of his own facepaint makes it onto Louis.

“I accept all blame,” Louis says. “Pretty sure you and I are going to ruin Quincy House within the first two months.”

“Stop cuddling!” Liam shouts, launching himself into Harry and Louis to break up their little snogfest. “It’s mates time!”

Harry grabs the vuvuzela out of Liam’s hand. He takes a deep breath and blows it as loud as he can in Liam’s face. 

The lads all laugh, and Harry looks around, admiring the antique looking buildings. Between hearing various houses scream jovially, and laughing as different house mascots wrestle on the lawn, he certainly feels at home.

**Author's Note:**

> in other news, i need to stop writing about alcohol. 
> 
> [personal](http://www.decisions-and-revisions.tumblr.com) & [fic tumblr](http://www.decisionsandrevisionsfic.tumblr.com) if you feel more comfortable messaging me there.


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